


A Sunrise, a Sunset, and a Sunday Afternoon

by Squishney_Lamppost



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi is a sunset and Bokuto is his sunrise, Fluff, M/M, Minor Character Death, like very very minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 12:39:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8578855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squishney_Lamppost/pseuds/Squishney_Lamppost
Summary: His mother told him that Akaashi is a sunset.  His mother told him he would one day find his sunrise.  A short story of the life of a sunset named Akaashi Keiji and a sunrise named Bokuto Koutarou.





	

The sun painted the sky and climbed over mountains, waking the world. Birds flew and sang and spoke, the wind picked up in a way that was louder than before. The shadows appear and stretch out, and the footsteps become louder. Rivers become clearer, and the cars below were suddenly awake. A boy and his mother stood above the world and watched it come alive.  
“A sunrise.” the mother said softly. The boy had no words. He had seen the sun in the sky before, seen the sun fall behind mountains, and thought that sunsets were the prettiest. But now his view had changed.  
“Beautiful isn’t it? One day, you’ll find your sunrise. But you, my boy, you are a sunset.” The mother said.  
“A Sunset?” the boy asked quietly.  
“Yes, a sunset. Quiet, calm, and very handsome.” She teased, turning to him  
“I think sunrises are so much more beautiful.” the boy responded, looking out.  
“It’s good that you think that, because one day someone will waltz into your life and you’ll think, wow, there’s my beautiful sunrise,” She smiled at her little boy. “And your sunrise, they’ll look at you like you stopped time, hung the moon, and suck around to light the stars.”  
The boy sighed. He wanted to find his sunrise. He wanted to to see someone who wakes up the world and paints it to perfection, who brings light and joy.  
“Mommy, when will I find my sunrise?” He asked softly.  
“One day honey, don’t try to rush. The sun rises when it chooses to.” She responded. The boy was six years old.

 

Now the little boy had grown. He was twelve. He was still handsome and still quiet, still the little boy who watched a sunrise. But his once bright green eyes had begun to fade as he sat next to a hospital bed with his father. His mother, his sunrise, was fading, sitting bleak in a white sheet bed with fingers frail as snowflakes and a voice softer than autumn. The boy and his father had watched their sunrise fade for too long now, but every day was worse than the last, everyday darker. She was the sunrise to balance out the sunsets she spent her days with. But that final day sitting in a white room with two chairs and a broken TV, their precious sun fizzled out. But before she left, she whispered her final words to the boy, who, though now older, felt so small by that bed. He felt six again as she began to speak.  
“Go,” She said, “go and find a sunrise bright enough to light the whole sky, bright enough to light the darkness you’ll find yourself in. Bright enough to replace me.” The boy cried as she laid a delicate kiss on his forehead, and faded away.  
Now he was not the perfect son, and she was not the perfect mother. He still refused to do his chores, she still yelled at him when he did, he still broke windows and she still sighed at him and sent him away to his room. She still stressed about work and freaked out at him, and he still refused to wash the dishes. But the dishes sat unwashed in the sink now. The house was trapped in eternal dusk, the stars never lit and the light never getting through. And the two sunsets mourned as the dishes sat in the sink reminding them there was a real world out there that they weren’t ready to visit.  
That is, until the smaller sunset stepped out of his little room. He had grown again, his eyes a deeper green and his hair soft and black as night. He was still slender and quiet, and now his face was expressionless, impossible to read. He seemed blurred at the edges, soft and silent. He went to the sink and he washed the dishes and he sighed and thought about his lost sunrise. He would just have to find another.

 

High School started two years after his sunrise left. He was quiet and serious, but taller now. He had thrown himself into his studies to escape the pain, and slowly the light returned to his life, in the form of perfect grades and smiles from even the strictest of teachers. He worked so hard he didn’t have time for friends, and when he arrived in the hallowed high school halls, he believed it would be the same thing. But there was someone who wouldn’t let that happen.  
“Hey hey hey! You! With the dark hair! Hey! Bird boy!” At this the dark-haired boy turned, seeing a very strange sight. In front of him was a taller boy, with absolutely ridiculous hair. It was grey and black, streaked and put up in two spikes. He later learned this was a dare, specifically ‘look as much like an owl as possible without wearing any owl clothing or stuff like that’. The owl-haired boy was holding a flyer that had a volleyball on it.  
“Did you just call me bird boy?” The smaller boy said smoothly.  
“Well, you look so delicate and soft, like a bird!” He responded.  
“Well okay then, owl man.” The bird boy jibed back, still smooth and confident. The owl man threw his head back and laughed loudly. It was like the sun got brighter and the day got warmer when he laughed. It was boisterous and loud, calling everyone’s attention to it. It was like a sunrise.  
“You have spunk, bird boy! Wanna be on the volleyball team?” The owl man said. The little bird boy was confused. Volleyball seemed like the last sport the big armed owl guy would want to play. Well, you can’t judge a book by it’s cover. And he learned from his mom to trust a good laugh, and that laugh was what it would sound like if sunshine could sing. The bird boy smiled and took a flyer.  
High school passed like a blur after that. And the little boy’s owl man became his best friend. He was childish and loud and powerful and always called the dark-haired one bird boy, but bird boy didn’t care. By his second year, he realized what he found. He had found the sunrise his mother spoke of. He realized this when he talked with another teammate, who told him that “the captain looks at you like you hung the moon and stuck around to light the stars.” The bird boy blushed. He remembered when his mother had told him he was a sunset, when she said someone would look at him like that. And he knew that he had found his sunrise.

 

It was the end of second year, when his owl man was graduating. When bird boy grew enough courage to say to him that he loved him. It turned out he didn’t really need it, for after the ceremony his sunrise ran to him, and swooped him up, trapping his lips in a kiss. It was surprising, but not unwelcome, and that moment felt like everything the bird boy hoped it would. His owl man pulled back and looked at bird boy’s flushing face with a radiant grin.  
“I love you, bird boy.” he said, a teasing voice at the nickname.  
“I love you too.” bird boy said softly, and they were kissing again. The sunset had found his sunrise, his loud, bright, beautiful sunrise that he wanted to wake up to every morning.  
It had been many years since those first words of love. And now a new little baby bird was in the nest, a little boy with bright eyes and soft hair and the sweetest smile. He was soft but bright, a relaxing soul with a kind smile. A little sunday afternoon.  
So a sunrise and a sunset and a sunday afternoon sat in the grass and watched the clouds roll by.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, this was my very first fanfic, but I have plenty more ready to post in the upcoming days as well as some WIP ones. I hope you enjoyed my strange writing, as not all of the others are going to be written in this strange... style.


End file.
